Argyle in the Morning, Denim at Dinner
by LadyQuartz24601
Summary: Harry flees to Hermione's house searching refuge from the Dursleys... There, he starts to notice that Hermione is, in fact, a girl. So what does this have to do with argyle and denim? Read to find out.


Disclaimer: If you recognize anything, clearly it's not mine. If it were, Remus wouldn't have died.

Argyle in the Morning, Denim at Dinner

Harry dropped his trunk noisily to the curb, panting, and resting while little rivulets of sweat poured down his forehead. He was in three size too big sweat pants, with a thin tee shirt, and worn out trainers. He'd been on the run for four hours, but he had finally reached his destination. He hoped.

He checked, once again, the house number on the post box. What if he'd misremembered the address? He'd _die_ if he woke up some random couple at what was it, 3:00 in the morning? Checking his watch, the time was confirmed. Dear Lord, what was he doing? He couldn't just wake the family up at this hour. Perhaps he should stay outside until they were awake.

A cold wind blew across Harry's sweat soaked shirt and face, causing a cropping of goose flesh to appear. Remembering the dementors in the summer before his fifth year, Harry stood and lugged his trunk the last few yards to the door of number 5 Abbey Lane.

Harry knocked quietly twice, and then paused. No one answered the door, and Harry knocked twice again, but slightly louder. He glanced at his watch, then heard the lock on the door click. The door swung open an inch, and Harry could see one chocolate brown eye staring at him through the crack.

The eye blinked. "Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I just had to escape, and yours is the closest house. I've been walking for four hours. Can I come in?"

The door swung open and Harry stepped inside. He propped his trunk against the wall, and collapsed onto the carpeted stairs. Hermione sat next to him and took his hand. "What's going on?"

Harry was silent for a few minutes as he remembered:

He, Ron, and Hermione had gone right from Hogwarts to the front lines of the war when their sixth year had ended. They'd spent three months planning, chasing, battling—helped out by nearly everyone in the wizarding world community, most especially the Order of the Phoenix. In the end, Voldemort had been killed. That was at the beginning of October. Ron, Harry, and Hermione had each been sent to their respective houses to heal from their war injuries…

Now Ron was back at Hogwarts, having healed surprisingly quickly. Hermione's only remaining injury was a broken wrist, and she would be leaving for Hogwarts as soon as her cast came off. Harry's injuries, however, seemed not to have healed at all.

And why? Dark magic? More severe injuries? Over work of the injured appendages? No, none of the above.

Finally, Harry repeated quietly, "I had to come, to escape."

"Escape who? Death eaters?"

Harry shook his head. "The Dursleys didn't like that I was home indefinitely in the middle of their year… They also think I've been getting cocky, so they took it upon themselves to cut me down to size."

Hermione gasped. "They haven't been—that's why Madam Pomfrey said your ribs haven't healed!" She threw her arms around Harry's neck, stopping mid grasp when her cast bumped into Harry's shoulder and he gasped.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so, so sorry! And you walked all the way here? You must be exhausted!" She stood and 'locomotor mortise'd' Harry's trunk upstairs into her room. Then, she took Harry's hand again. She led him to her bedroom and tucked him into bed, showing him where her bathroom was. Then, she filled a cauldron with several jars and stood again. "I'm going to go fix an anti-bruising salve for you."

Harry opened his mouth. "You don't have to, it's okay."

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "It most certainly is not okay. You've been _abused_, and are obviously in pain. Besides, I'm awake now, so I might as well be doing something useful."

She padded out of the room, closing the door with a soft click then creeping down the stairs into the kitchen.

Once there, Hermione set up an impromptu potions lab on the counter by the sink. She opened her potions book and began mixing assorted powders and liquids to the base of sea salt squid salve. Reading her text by the moonlight, she followed the directions to a tee, and held her breath that this would work.

-

Harry awoke around 2:00 the next afternoon to see Hermione sitting at her desk. He felt for his glasses, slid them into place on his nose, then coughed gently—regretting it when his ribs twinged in pain. "What time's it, 'Mione?"

Hermione spun around. "Hello, Harry! It's 2:00 in the afternoon. I brought up lunch for you if you want it. Oh! And the bruising salve worked out perfectly so we can do that whenever you're ready. My parents say that you can stay as long as you want, and when you're ready, we'll return to Hogwarts together. They've gone to get all our books now, before their after-school appointments."

Harry nodded, vaguely remembering that Hermione's parents were dentists. He pushed himself up against the headboard. "Can I have lunch?"

Hermione sent the plate over to him with a wave of her wand. "Your trunk is over there," she waved towards the outside wall. "I reorganized it, so if you don't know where anything is, just ask. Also, there's a set of towels for you on the ledge of the bathtub. I'm going to go change the wash around. Just holler if you need anything." She left the room.

-

This became the routine for the next several days. Harry would wake up, he and Hermione would talk for a few minutes, then she would leave to do chores while Harry ate and showered. They'd meet up around dinner, then spend the evening talking or watching movies.

On October 29, Harry woke up to find no Hermione. He ate and showered, then went downstairs to find his best friend. She was in the kitchen, wearing a short khaki skirt with red flats and a pale blue, white, and yellow argyle short sleeved sweater. She turned around. "Hey, Harry!"

Harry just gaped. She was so lovely, even though she had flour on her forehead and her hair was in a messy ponytail. Harry blinked twice before finding his voice. "Whatcha doing?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "I'm making cookies to drop off at Mrs. Fulmore's house. She's in bed with a broken hip, and I just feel so bad for her. I mean, she used to babysit me—" she continued talking, but Harry's eyes merely followed her mouth. "Are you listening to me?" She demanded.

Harry blushed. "Um… not really… I'm sorry, Hermione, I just got swept up in y—um… my thoughts, is all… See you at dinner!" Harry fled upstairs to do homework.

And do homework he did. In fact, he so lost track of time that he didn't look at the clock until there was a knock on the door. "Harry, Dear," Mrs. Granger called, "Harry, it's time for dinner. You don't want your hamburger getting cold, do you?"

Harry quickly capped the ink bottle and shut his books. He swung open the door and followed Mrs. Granger down to dinner. They entered the kitchen and Harry fell short.

Hermione was leaning against the counter, reaching for glasses. Her previous outfit had been replaced by a little green camisole that rode up when she lifted her arms and very tight blue jeans. She grabbed the glasses, shut the cabinet door, and turned back to the table. She sat down, then said over a shoulder with a wink, "Come sit down, Harry."

Harry, stammering, could do nothing but obey. He moved wordlessly to sit next to Hermione. He couldn't stop gaping at her like a fish, and he knew that whatever lay in his past, his future lay with Hermione.

And that is how argyle and denim brought down the Savior of the Wizarding World.

-  
>What did you think? I'm not really happy with the ending... Any suggestions?<p> 


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